


Taco Thursday

by TheLadyLokiofLove



Series: Welcome to the Avenger's Sin Bin, children. [6]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Bad Puns, F/M, Food, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kitchen Sex, Pining, Reader-Insert, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tattoos, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 06:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyLokiofLove/pseuds/TheLadyLokiofLove
Summary: Now...to this you Taco Thursday sounds like some lamer version of Taco Tuesday, but…The you where your an Avenger and living in the compound loves it....and is about to love it even more.





	Taco Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> I have been gone and I come back from the dead with this nonsense.

Taco Thursday is the best night of the week, sure there was tacos but the very best part is how Tony Stark makes pitchers upon pitchers of margaritas. Nine times out of ten Steve Rogers would be hungover enough to cancel missions on Fridays, because if  _ he _ gets hammered he assumes everyone else has alcohol poisoning. You were in on the secret that Tony would double dose Cap and Bucky to give everyone the day off from drills and practice, since  _ he _ personally missed waking up late on Fridays.

You were chopping lettuce and on your third head of it; granted you weren’t feeding a literal army but Thor could tuck away more tacos than Sam, and not by that many. You liked when the Asguardians came to dinner, they always had some fresh story even if it was thousands of years old.

Loki was a much better storyteller because he would finish one story before jumping to the next, unlike his brother. Hela could be exciting but there was something about her that just left you feeling a little intimidated. 

It was a hit or miss if they were coming, being from off world meant they didn’t keep the same schedule as the rest of you; but Nat and Bruce would be here. You smiled, you loved them almost as much as they loved each other.

Natasha had saved you from the Red Room, well, not just you, but still. You had been a scared, kidnapped girl forced to learn to kill, she got there before there was too much blood on your hands. You were the youngest, maybe ten at the time and had clung to Natasha and imprinted like you were a duckling. She had tried to get you away, somewhere safe but thanks to the Red Room’s training you always found her, even if she had been on the other side of the globe.

That was some fifteen years past, she had taught you to be effective and strong. Tony would normally call you ‘Baby Widow’, the world knew you as ‘Missulena’ and only Black Widow could call you ‘утенок’. Well...her and Bucky, but he would normally call you ‘кошка’ since the Missulena was commonly called the mouse eater. 

Tony walked into the kitchen, a dark look on his face, “Hey, baby widow, settle and argument for us.”

You looked up to see an amused Bucky and exhausted Steve, “What am I settling exactly?” you asked, setting the knife down.

“Who would win in a fight? Me, or the poster child for modern auto-mail?”

You beamed, “You  _ did _ watch it!” you said, catching his obvious anime reference.

“Stay on track,” he said with a glare, “Me or him.”

You looked at both men, clearly something happened today, “I don’t know if I want to answer.”

Bucky’s smirk grew and Tony’s face darkened, “What do you mean?” he glowered.

You looked to Steve who shrugged, clearly he had been trying to talk them out of this line of questioning, “It uh…” you looked down at your pile of chopped lettuce, “Depends?” you offered weakly, looking back up at them.

“On?” Bucky asked, grin still plastered on his face.

“If Tony is in the suit.”

“Ha!” Bucky said, looking at Tony, “I told you.”

You looked confused, “Tony, you didn’t think that-”

“So he’s got a metal arm!” Tony shouted, hands in the air.

“Yeah and combat training! And weapons training!” you countered, pointing out the obvious. 

“So?”

“So, you’d lose easy.” another voice joined the discussion. 

Clint walked into the room and any room he was in you wanted out of. Yeah, so you had like a little, teeny crush on the archer...since you were fifteen. Hawkeye and Black Widow went on lots of missions together and were close, which meant you got to spend time with him too. He was funny, and handsome, and...well let’s just say that when he came back from Japan with his new tattoos it kept you up at night. He had a way of getting under your skin in the best and worst possible way. Currently you were avoiding him after catching him two days ago leaving the gym showers in only a towel.

You shifted awkwardly, unable to avoid him since he joined the conversation and it was your turn to prepare dinner.

“No one asked you, bird boy.” Tony snipped as Clint slid into the kitchen.

“Yeah because he won’t lie to you, unlike your favorite spider.” Bucky smirked, arms folded at his chest.

“That reminds me, who is picking up Peter?” Cap asked looking down at his watch, “He is coming, isn’t he?” he asked.

“Parker isn’t allowed to drink.” you chimed in, very interested in the piles of lettuce. 

“Taco Thursday is for team building, not partying.” Cap said in his best poster boy voice.

Bucky snorted, “Says the man who put away three pitchers by himself.”

Clint was perched on the counter behind you and you could feel his eyes on the back of your skull.

“I’ll get the kid, if only to get away from your bickering.” Tony said and clapped you on the shoulder, “You’re on my list, watch yourself.”

You shrugged his hand off and smirked, “Yeah yeah, whatever.”

The three other men continued their argument as they left the kitchen, leaving you to start on the next batch of produce to chop.

You used the back of the knife to scrape all the lettuce into a bowl before picking up a tomato. You set it down and sliced it neatly in two when you heard a sigh.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You bristled, of course you were, “No I’m not.”

You heard him chuckle and it made your spine want to melt, “Yes you are.” he slid off the counter and took two careful steps towards you. You hand tightened on the knife reflexively, “Easy spider.” he chuckled again, coming into eye line, “Save the slicing for those tomatoes.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the task at hand, one became two and two three, smaller and smaller; all the while trying to keep the archer from your mind, even if his shoulder was purposely touching yours.

He picked up one of the boxes of taco shells and snorted a laugh, “Stand and stuff.” he said aloud, “There’s a joke in there, right?”

You let your eyes glide over to him and his damned smirk, he held the box and chuckled again, “It’s right there.” he said, shaking the box a little.

You looked back down at the small cubes of tomato, a smirk on your lips, “I bet you’d like stand and stuff some taco, Clint.”

He let out a roarious laugh and dropped the box and you couldn’t help but laugh a little as well. You both had a sense of humor of thirteen year olds, and come on, the joke was  _ right there. _ When you both calmed down he let out a sigh.

“Ah, see, much better,” he set the box down, “Could have cut the sexual tension with a knife.”

You stilled, only for a fraction of a moment, but you caught the way his smirk widened, damn it. Clint could read you like a fucking book, you trained with  _ the _ Black Widow and Clint Barton could see all your thoughts on your face.

You picked up another tomato and started slicing, “Don’t know what you mean.”

Clint groaned and pushed himself off the counter, “Oh come on.” you felt him move behind you but weren’t expecting his breath on your ear, “Aren’t you tired of this dance?”

You whirled around, knife in hand and poised to strike, he caught your wrist easily and that smirk was still on his face. You moved to strike him with the other hand but he caught that as well, kicking your feet apart and locking his leg between them. Your eyes narrowed, pushing against his hand with the one holding the knife. He was standing so his torso was turned towards it but his hips were centered so his leg could lock properly.

“Let me go.” you growled, using your strength but knowing he had a few pounds and a few more years of training on you.

The hold on your wrists wasn’t necessarily painful, “Or what?” the challenge was clear, you could get out of his grip, “You’ll stab me?”

“I said let go, fucking  adrenaline  junkie.” you snarled trying to drive the knife into him.

He let out a laugh, “Why do you say that? Because I startled an assassin?” 

“No,” you tried to shift your weight, “Because you are always doing dumb shit.”

Clint threw himself into battle, he was a ranged fighter but the second he ran out of arrows he was leaping into the fray. You had lost count of how many times you’d have to bandage him up or how many lectures Widow gave the archer about being responsible. He would just smirk and shrug his shoulders; Bucky complained that between him and Steve he’d have gray hair to match his age.

“Yeah?” he asked, leg sliding up, “Like this?” his knee was barely an inch from your core and you had no footing to get yourself away. He looked up at you and wet his lips, “Aren’t you gonna tell me to stop?”

You weren’t sure you were even  _ breathing _ , so forming words to stop the man you’d been pining for since you were a teen pressing himself against your core was the furthest thing from your mind. You swallowed hard before meeting his eyes.

“You don’t have the guts, Barton.” you smirked, the words leaving you before you had any idea where they came from.

“Don’t I?” he asked, pressing his knee at the junction of your thighs and giving them a rub causing you to hiss out a breath.

Now, your plan wasn’t necessarily elegant but, you slid your right leg over and caught his leg around yours and jerked your body to the left, meaning he’d have to free his hand from your wrist to catch himself or fall with a knife pointed at his chest. Which is why when you felt your whole body turn you were less than prepared. He spun to land on his back while twisting your wrist causing you to give up the knife. He let out a grunt but otherwise looked quite pleased with himself with his hold still firmly on both of your wrists and the knife just out of reach.

“Why, it seems I have caught a spider.”

“Fuck off Clint.” you snarled and tried to pull away. He gave a sharp tug which caused you to lose your balance and fall face first into his chest, he locked his powerful arms behind your back and threw one of his legs around both of yours to keep you immoble.

You let out a growl and he chuckled, “Come on, I beat you, fair and square.”

“Rubbing my pussy isn’t fair, or square.” you grumbled, trying to wiggle out of his hold.

“Hng, careful now,” he said, tightening his grip, “You wiggle like that and someone might get hurt.”

You paused a moment, something now pressing to your leg, you raised your head, “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

He rolled his eyes, “No, holding you down and having you squirm right by my cock would never turn me on.”

You felt your face flush a moment but still determined to break free from his hold because of some sense of pride or some other foolish notion instead of letting this man pin you to the kitchen floor and fuck you senseless.

You wiggled again, head getting closer to his neck, his arms still pinning your chest to him and legs wrapped snugly against his admittedly fine body. The next plan you had was also, inelegant but you didn’t have a lot of options going for you. You wiggled again, closer to your target. His back arched slightly.

“Hnng, I mean it kid.” he said looking down at your face, “Just call uncle.”

You took a deep breath in before snapping your jaws shut on his neck, right above the artery. For half a moment you thought you actually injured him by the sound he made, only to register it was a strangled moan of your name. Instead of letting your shock get the best of you, you clamped down harder. His back bowed like his weapon as he hissed.

“Fuck yes baby, right there.”

A chill ran down your spine at the pure pornigraphic nature of his voice, and the voice of your training ran out when you realized his grip had faltered. With a well practiced move you managed to twist your arm free and get out of his grip, springing to your feet and bolting for the exit. 

Many things can be said about notorious archer Clint Barton, slow reaction time is not one of them. He managed to catch your leg and push the other one out from under you, causing the world to spin and almost find yourself face first; had it not been for the Widow’s training. Your body curled and you caught yourself, the leg in his hand twisting unpleasantly but the other going for his face. He caught this easily and glared, a dark red mark blossomed on his neck.

“Fuck, would you just quit?” he said darkly and suddenly your blood ran cold.

The look of unadulterated panic must have flitted across your face because he dropped your legs and took a step back, hands in the air. You pulled your legs in and sat on the floor.

He took a beat before sighing and running his hand through his short hair, “Sorry, I wasn’t, I mean that-”

“S’Okay.” you muttered to your kneecaps.

“You know I’d never do anything like that to you.”

You didn’t look up. You heard him kneel, a hand touching your chin, you wanted to pull away.

“Right?”

You looked into his eyes, he was looking for something, “Please tell me I wasn’t misreading signs, because I don’t think I was.”

Your eyes cast down, “I dunno what-”

“I like you too.”

Your heart lurched as your eyes focused to meet his gaze, a small, soft smile played on his face.

“A lot.” he chuckled, “Nat hates it.”

“Nat knows?”

“Babe,” he sighed, “Everyone but you seems to know.”

You shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the floor.

“Nat thinks I’m too old for you.”

You smirked, he was a good fifteen years older than you, “Yeah, you are pretty old.”

“Ouch!” he admonished as he stood, “Not as old as Tony.”

He held his hand out and you took it, “Only because he invented time.”

Clint pulled you in close, his other hand going to your waist, “Is this, I mean, are you-”

“Just kiss me.” you said with a smirk as your arms went to his shoulders.

His reply was his lips on yours. His eyes slid shut just before yours did and a chill ran up your back as his hand cupped your ass. His other hand rested on your hip while yours weaved up into his short sandy hair It felt like static was running across your whole body and it caused your arm muscles to flex. The feeling seemed to be mutual as his grip became slightly more possessive and his lips pressed harder to yours. You met his pressure and felt the world spin.

Your back hit the counter and you wanted to complain but it was hard to do when he lifted your hips up to sit you on the counter.

“You were right, I  _ do _ want to stand and stuff some taco.”

You didn’t know if you should be mortified or turned on by such a statement but the way he looked with his hair mused and pupils blown wide made up your mind. Your legs spread to make room for him as his lips crashed against yours again. This was less passion and more desire as you opened your mouth to him; tongue, teeth, this felt more raw than the last kiss, typical headlong behavior. Your hands pulled his shirt to get him to be as close as humanly possible and his rough hands took a strong hold on your thighs, you could feel the calluses there. He held your legs open and went he broke from the kiss he was panting.

“Fuck,” he inhaled, “I can’t wait,” he was making quick work of his belt.

“Just as impatient as I thought you would be.” you smirked, undoing your shorts.

“Think about me often?” he wore that smirk that made your heart falter, he helped your shorts down your legs.

“Don’t get cocky, hot shot.” his field code name had a different taste now as he sealed your lips with his.

His fingers found your opening and began teasing the wetness he found there, your hands found their place back on his shirt as he played you like an instrument he had mastered. You found it a little unfair that he had you wrapped around his finger but when you trailed your hand lower you found how desperate he was. He bucked easily into your hand and groaned into the kiss. When he broke it again his lips found your neck, leaving sloppy kisses above your artery.

“I really,  _ really _ can’t wait.” he whimpered, bucking into your hand, “Can I?”

You leaned into his ear, “You already have your answer, don’t you?” you whispered.

He groaned, thrusting another finger in and finding no resistance, “I need to hear it.”

You pushed him away and for a moment he looked wounded but you just kicked your shorts and panties to the ground, “Come over here and fuck me, Barton.”

The growl was almost animalistic as he shoved his pants down to free his cock and taking a stride over to you. He held himself steady as he slid in, inch by inch his eyes never leaving your face. You couldn't even begin to imagine how you looked right now, but you were sure your face was as red as it could possibly be. When he was fully inside he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’ve waited for so long,” he breathed, “Fuck, you were worth it.”

The chill that raced down your spine at his words warmed you; there was so much meaning and love in those words that you didn’t give yourself a moment to respond, just sealing your lips to his.

You could feel the smile on his lips as he returned the kiss and began to slide out, rocking back in at a gentle pace. In all your fantasies of the archer currently between your legs, he was fast, hard, throwing you headlong into pleasure just as he did in battle, but this was even better. He was thrusting in deep and slow so you could feel every inch of him and his lips kept working against yours to take in every whimper and moan as your body lost control.

“That’s it,” he breathed into your overheated skin, “Just feel me, feel what you do to me.” 

You couldn’t even form words, just held onto him as he worked his hips faster.

“Every mission, every night, every damn day when the sun hits you.” he dragged his thumb over your clit and your back arched sharply, “I think how I want you to be mine.”

Tears were forming in your eyes as he rubbed circles over your clit, sending blot after bolt of lighting into your blood, turning the sea of your orgasm. You wouldn’t last long and you knew it.

“C-Clint.” you whimpered, his cock dragging against your G-spot.

“I’m here, fuck I’m here baby.” he was staring down at where your bodies joined, watching himself slide in an out.

“I-I’m,” you could feel your walls starting to flutter around him, knuckles white as they gripped his shirt.

“Please, please baby.” his lips came crashing down on yours again and the pad of his thumb pressed into your overworked nerves sending you over.

You gasped and shook, he groaned hotly into your ear as you milked him dry, he thrust through you orgasm into his own, shooting himself deep inside of you.

You felt like you were floating, nerves overworked to the point of shut down and you were only dimly aware of the fact that you were moving, being held tight to something warm and firm.

Then something soft, colder and when you opened your eyes you could see that the room you were in was not your own, but your nerves had been shot so you didn’t care, only that the pillows smelled wonderful.

You couldn’t be sure how much time had passed when you felt the bed dip, you opened your eyes to see Clint, mischief written all over his face.

“What’d you do?” you asked sleepily, scooting closer to him and the blanket he held out for you.

“Cleaned up the crime scene.” he chuckled and you felt it when you lay your head on his chest.

Whatever clever thing he wanted to add died on his lips as you cuddled in closer. He smiled and laid down, hand in your hair, he finally had his girl, right where she belonged.

When Tony and Steve returned to find a note tacked to the fridge and a pile of lettuce on the floor.

‘Fend for yourselves.’

They looked at each other confused at the cleaned off counter and the half done prep. Guess Taco Thursday was going to take longer than expected. 

**Author's Note:**

> Love you all, check out my other works I haven't updated in forever....  
for I am trash thank you.
> 
> (I have an etsy now so maybe I'll post that???)


End file.
